14 January

Homechickens, I hesitate to impart to you this tale, because it undermines my reputation as a crusty curmudgeon. But, nonetheless, I will.

While I was walking out of the library this afternoon, mind aflutter with the literary joys weighing down my right shoulder, I happened across a young woman with whom I went to school, carrying a very small baby.

“That is a very small baby,” I said, ever one for stating the obvious.

“11 days,” she said.

“Are you sure it’s appropriate to be stealing babies that young?”

“It’s mine, actually,” she said. I studied her form, which confirmed my suspicion that pregnant women actually do deflate, like balloons, after delivery.

“Well,” I said. “Congratulations, then.”

“Thanks,” she replied, tilting the pink-clad creature’s sleeping face at me so I could see it. Admittedly, it didn’t look very happy at the whole cold outside side. But it was a pretty cute baby. And I appreciated Pippin’s zeal for getting the little bastard a library card early.

As I walked away, grey clouds looming overhead, it occurred to me that I forgot to ask what the baby’s name was. Perhaps it hasn’t been named yet. At any rate, welcome to the world, Pippin’s child.

[babies]

Please god let this be the last thing I ever tag babies. Ever. Thank you.